


A Hit to the Face and a Broken Heart

by flashwitch



Series: Shawn's heart [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashwitch/pseuds/flashwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Prequel to "Four O'clock is the Worst Time in the Morning". Shawn told Lassiter about the first time he ran away. This is that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

Once in a hospital room, Shawn told Lassiter about the first time he'd run away. He never counted the time he ran off to join the circus, or the time he'd hidden in the trunk of his Uncle Jack's car because he'd wanted to treasure hunting. He  _did_ tell Lassiter about the time he actually ran  _away_  from home, rather than running  _to_  something. Show of hands, who wants to hear the story?

* * *

The first time Shawn ran away, he had just turned fourteen. His parents had done nothing but fight for the past two years, and Shawn hated it. He spent more time at Gus's than he did at his own home.

Shawn was sitting in his room, headphones on, music playing, pillow over his ears. His parents had been fighting for hours. He carefully lifted the corner of the pillow. Maybe they'd made up. Maybe he could go down for dinner. Maybe they'd be okay.

"...What am I supposed to think Henry?"

"Maddie, this is not my fault! Don't you blame all our problems on me!"

"You! You and your 'career' and the way you treat our son, and the hours you're out of the house! How are we supposed to have a real partnership, if you're never around?"

" _I'm_ never around? What about you? How many 'business trips' have you been on in this month alone? Shawn barely even sees you!"

"Don't you dare! Don't you blame this on me! At least I hug Shawn, tell him I love him."

"You've got everything twisted around! You always do this! Every time we fight, you manage to bring it round to something that you can win at! We are supposed to be discussing the bills, and the fact that you spent three hundred dollars on a new suitcase!"

"That's it! I've had it! Dr Laredo offered me a place on a conference on PTSD. It starts tomorrow. I had refused because I wanted to spend some time with my husband, but I don't know why I bothered!"

Shawn flopped back onto his bed and screwed his eyes shut. He put the headphones more firmly onto his ears. That way he didn't have to listen to Maddie coming up stairs and packing. A moment later, the song finished and there was a pause between tunes. He heard his mother thunder back down the stairs dragging that three hundred dollar suitcase after her, and he heard the front door slam behind her as she fled the house.

She didn't even come to say goodbye.

* * *

Shawn waited about half an hour before he ventured downstairs. He was hungry. His parents had forgotten dinner in their anger.

He tiptoed down, carefully. He looked into the living room and saw his dad. Henry was sitting on the sofa, with an open bottle of scotch. As Shawn watched, Henry lifted it and drank a good mouthful right from the bottle. Shawn swallowed. He'd go to Gus's.

Gus was reading a comic book (Blue Beetle) when there was a noise at his window. He looked and saw Shawn clinging onto the window frame and knocking on the glass. He rushed over and opened it to let his friend in.

"Shawn? What are you doing here?"

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"Sure. But... What's going on? Why did you climb in through the window? We have a perfectly good door."

"I... my parents are fighting again."

"Okay." That was all Gus needed to know. "Here." He passed Shawn a comic from his stack.

It was a couple of hours later when there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Burton, get your butt downstairs. Mom's Aunt Jo is sick. She had a heart attack or something. We have to go. Pack an overnight bag."

"What? Joy, what's going on?"

"Just get ready and get downstairs!"

Gus looked at Shawn. Shawn looked at Gus.

"Go man, your family needs you." Shawn said, unable to meet his friend's eyes.

"You sure? What will you do?"

"Go home, I guess. I can't stay here forever."

"Shawn..."

"I'll be fine Gus." Shawn grinned and climbed up onto the sill. "I always am."

* * *

Shawn got home in a really bad mood. He didn't want to have to deal with his drunk father. He wanted his Mom. He wanted to hang out with Gus. He slammed the front door behind him and headed towards the stairs.

"Shawn?" Henry stood. The scotch was half gone. "Where the hell have you been? I thought you were upstairs."

"Like you care." Shawn muttered.

"What did you say to me?"

"I was at Gus's."

"What the hell, Shawn? It's a school night! And it's nearly ten o'clock!"

"So what?"

" _So what?_  Do you care about anyone but yourself?"

"Do you?" Something inside Shawn snapped. "Do you care about me? About Mom? No! You just care about your stupid job! About making me just like you! I don't want to be like you! I'm not you!"

"Oh, you'd rather be like your mother? Just disappear at the first sign of trouble?"

"She only disappears because she can't stand to be around you! I don't blame her!"

Henry's hand seemed to move of it's own accord, and he gave his son a solid backhand across the face, sending him falling backward. He hit his head on a small table, and bounced back against the wall.

Henry's eyes grew wide as he realised what he'd just done.

"Shawn..."

His head was bleeding. Shawn's hand went to the wound and he examined the blood on it as though it were something amazing.

"Shawn, you need to go to the hospital." Henry said; his voice weaker than Shawn had ever heard it.

The boy got up, painfully slow, and made his way past his father, up the stairs to his room. He didn't slam the door. Henry wanted to follow, make sure he was okay, but he wasn't sure he'd be welcome. He looked at the bottle in his hand and was disgusted with himself. He threw it against the wall and it shattered.

* * *

Shawn heard the bottle smash and flinched. He pulled a large rucksack from the bottom of his wardrobe, and began stuffing it with clothes and other essentials. He checked he had his pills, the immunosuppressant's and the blood thinners. He grabbed the first aid kit and quickly patched his head. His t shirt was already soaked in blood.  _Head wounds always bleed a lot._  He reminded himself.  _And the pills make me bleed worse._  He pulled a rolled up sleeping bag from beneath his bed and strapped it to the top of the rucksack, before pulling it onto his back. He climbed out the window and didn't look back.

He walked for an hour or so, till he was on the other side of town. He found a doorway that was wide and deep, and rolled his sleeping bag out. He curled up and closed his eyes. He didn't even check to see what the building was. He just tried to go to sleep.

He woke up to hands touching him and he freaked, pulling back and fighting as hard as he could.

"Easy, man." A kid a year or so older than him said. He was filthy and dressed in ragged clothes. "I was just checking if you were holding."

"I don't do drugs." Shawn replied, and at the time, it's true. The kid looks him over.

"Go home. Sissy boy, you won't last a week." And he left.

Shawn felt the cold now that he was awake, and sat up, pulling the sleeping bag tighter around him. The motion made his head spin, and he puked on the concrete.  _Concussion._ A dim part of his brain catalogued. He knew he shouldn't go back to sleep. He'd seen that much on television. He looked at his watch. It was gone 2 in the morning. He wondered if his dad had even noticed.

* * *

About four hours later, the door opened and a woman came out. She was about fifty, and had dark hair. She smelled like fresh earth. She looked him over and tutted.

"You can't stay there."

"Sorry, ma'am. I'll get out of your way." Shawn got to his feet swaying slightly.

"I have pots that won't clean themselves." The woman said in a no nonsense tone and then walked inside, leaving the door open behind her. Shawn wasn't sure what to think. He hesitated a moment, but then followed her inside.

"You clean the floor, and wash any dishes, and I'll feed you. Help yourself to any drinks." She waved her hand. Shawn looked around the room. It was a restaurant, decorated all over with knick knacks and memorabilia. It had a lot of personality. "Josephine, get your butt out here!"

A girl of about eighteen came out, and looked at Shawn expressionless.

"Get the kid here a glass of milk and some fruit or something! We can't expect him to help us out on an empty stomach."

Shawn wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he sat at one of the booths and ate the banana that was put before him, and downed his pills with the milk.

"What's this? I won't have addicts around," the woman snapped.

"I'm not an addict, ma'am. These aren't drugs. Well, they are. But they're the legal type drugs, I have a heart condition."

"Right." She looked at him, assessing, and then nodded once. "You really should have that head looked at, boy. And it's Molly."

"Yes, ma'am." They exchanged smiled.

"so, you'll let me take you to the hospital?"

"No, ma'am," Shawn replied.

"Josephine! Bring that damn first aid kit, too!"

* * *

Shawn spent the day working in the diner, and it was surprisingly fun. He got big tips by ingratiating himself with the customers, he danced around to the jukebox while sweeping the floor, and washing the pots degenerated to a soap fight with Jo. After closing, Molly sat him down in one of the booths and put a burger and fries in front of him.

"So, what are you gonna do with your life, kid?" Molly asked. Jo rolled her eyes and slid a strawberry milkshake in front of the boy. "You gonna spend your life on the streets and sweeping floors?"

"Not me, ma'am. I'm going to do everything," Shawn replied through a mouthful of fries.

"Everything? That's a little ambitious."

"Not really, I'm going to do absolutely everything"

"Absolutely everything? How come?" Jo asked.

Shawn looked at Molly, and then at Jo. He shrugged and pulled his pill bottles out of his pocket.

"I had a heart condition as a kid. I had to have a transplant. I nearly died. I don't want to waste the rest of my life doing nothing, or working in some boring office. Or living down to my dad's expectations."

"What was that last one?" Molly asked, eyes narrowed.

"He wants me to be a cop. He can only see me in those terms. Because it's all he cares about. But I want to do everything. I want to live my life, not just survive."

"Your dad the one who gave you that?" she motioned to the swollen side of his face and the large gauze covering the gash on the back of his skull.

"It was my fault."

"How's that?" Molly asked. Shawn shrugged and took a mouthful of his burger. "Okay, you can bed down in the storeroom." Shawn looked at her for a long minute.

"No, thank you, ma'am," he replied.

"You sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

He slept in the doorway again that night. He knew that Molly was one of the good guys, he trusted her, and Jo, but he didn't want to take advantage of her. When Molly opened up again in the morning, he was awake, and waiting. She didn't speak to him, and he began to wonder if she wanted him to help again.

"What are you waiting for?" she called back, and he hurried inside.

He swept floors, served food, and cleaned up his own blood. The head injury just wouldn't stop bleeding. Jo was changing the gauze every couple of hours, and Molly kept making noises about taking him to the hospital.

"I'm fine," he insisted, although he was pale with anaemia.

"No, kid. You ain't fine," Molly said matter of factly. "I'll drag you too the Doc's by your heels if you don't go yourself." He frowned and folded his arms across his chest but she just rolled her eyes.

"I don't want to." He pouted.

"I don't care." She parodied his tone, and when he frowned, she stuck out her tongue. "Get." He followed her finger into the diner, from the kitchen, his shoulders set in a dejected slump. She would have made good on that threat, if it wasn't for the voice that called out the moment they walked out into the dining area.

"Shawn? Shawn Spencer?" Shawn knew that voice. He turned slowly, a fixed smile on his face.

"Officer Hendricks! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Kid, what the hell happened to you?" Hendricks shook his head. "Tanner, go start the car, and give Henry Spencer a call." His partner rushed out into the car park. "Come on, kid. We need to get you to the hospital." Shawn's ducked his head.

"Let me go get my stuff."

He went through to the kitchen where Jo had his stuff sitting neatly by the pantry door. The girl surprised him with a tight embrace. She ran off as soon as he wriggled from her arms. Molly was waiting for him by the cop.

"You better call, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn returned.

"Good. Now, take care of yourself, and don't let me catch you napping on my front porch again."

"No, ma'am."

She held out her hand and he shook it.

Hendricks drove them to the hospital in silence, and Henry was waiting for them. He apologized to Shawn, and the boy nearly died of shock. Henry wanted to tell everyone what he had done. He was a strong proponent of the truth. Shawn talked him out of it, hating himself as he did so.

He loved his mother, but... well, let's just say she wasn't the most reliable person in the world. He remembered the time they went to Texas to visit her sister, and she'd forgotten him, like so much luggage. And if they put him in foster care, he wouldn't get to see Gus anymore.

They took him off the blood thinners that day, because he'd nearly died of blood loss. They told him he needed to remember to seek  _immediate_ attention if he was hurt again. He nodded, but he didn't mean it. He didn't really like hospitals that much.

* * *

A week later, Shawn turned up at the diner with a bunch of brightly coloured flowers and a box of chocolate. Molly laughed at the flowers and ruffled his hair, careful of the still healing cut on his head. Jo took the chocolates, but scowled at him.

"Hey, kid. There are floors to sweep, you know?" Molly said, handing him a mop.

"Yes, ma'am." Shawn smiled.

"And when you're done, I want you to try my new recipe. Pineapple Upside Down Cake, with a twist."

"I don't know. I don't think I've ever tried pineapple before," he said, already working on the floors.

"Really? Oh, you'll love it." She grinned. "Jo! Fetch some of that new cake for the kid!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical stuff: Anaemia is the lack of iron or red blood cells in the blood and can also refer to severe blood loss, as the body cannot make red blood cells as fast as it looses them when the patient is bleeding badly.
> 
> Transplant patients would be on immunosuppressants for life, to prevent rejection of the donor organ. They are also often put on blood thinners such as Warfarin because clots can cause damage at the place where the veins and arteries join the new organ.
> 
> Although it says on TV shows that you shouldn't fall asleep with a concussion, and Shawn certainly believed them, it is NOT true. Hospitals want to keep patients with concussions awake because the tests to show how bad the concussion is need you to be awake. They consist of asking the patient questions, as well as checking pupil response etc. It's difficult to ask the patient their name when they are asleep. That's why patients with head injuries are woken every two hours, as the doctors can't tell if their concussion is worsening while they are asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

Henry watched his wife leave, again, and sighed. He loved her, so much, but lately it seemed that all they did was fight. He was tired of it. He tried his hardest, but it was a catch twenty two. He worked long hours, and she complained he didn't spend enough time with Shawn. He took less overtime, and they didn't have enough money to support his wife's lifestyle. Everything he did was to keep her in the style to which she had become accustomed. He spent every minute of his free time with his son, and she moaned that he was ignoring her. He spent more time with her, and she said he was neglecting Shawn. Everything he did was wrong. He sighed again.

What he needed was a drink. He went to the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He took a gulp. Why wasn't he good enough for her? No matter what he did, she complained. And Shawn? He did his best for the boy, but Shawn just resented him. All he was trying to do was make sure that the kid grew up on the straight and narrow; that he didn't turn into his mother. He took another long swallow.

He was a good man. A good cop. He knew that. Why was Maddie so... why didn't she love him, the way he loved her? All he wanted was a little concern. A little care. When he came home from a long day at work, with gruesome crime scenes, he just wanted... dare he say it?... a little tenderness.

He took another drink from the bottle.

Take today for instance. He'd been working a treble homicide, a mother and her two children, one of them a boy of about Shawn's age. When he got home, all he wanted was to hug his wife, and to know that his son was alright. Instead, he'd come home to a massive bill and was attacked by his loving wife for working overtime, again. How was he supposed to deal with that?

And he hadn't even thought about the fact that he and his partner were in a shoot out this afternoon.

The bullets had missed him by inches.

He drank another mouthful.

How was he supposed to deal with all of that?

All he wanted was for Maddie and Shawn to be happy and safe.

Was that too much to ask?

He drank a long swallow.

At least he knew Shawn was safe up in his room. After seeing that little boy's poor dead body... bad things happen. He knew that better than most. How was he supposed to protect his family if they wouldn't listen to him?

* * *

He heard the front door creak open and stood up, almost sloshing the scotch onto the floor in his haste. It could be Maddie! Maybe she'd come back!

"Shawn?" Henry stood. His son had been gone without him realising. Anything could have happened! "Where the hell have you been? I thought you were upstairs."

"Like you care." Shawn muttered.

"What did you say to me?"

"I was at Gus's."

"What the hell, Shawn? It's a school night! And it's nearly ten o'clock!"

"So what?"

"So what? Do you care about anyone but yourself?"

"Do you? Do you care about me? About Mom? No! You just care about your stupid job! About making me just like you! I don't want to be like you! I'm not you!"

"Oh, you'd rather be like your mother? Just disappear at the first sign of trouble?"

"She only disappears because she can't stand to be around you! I don't blame her!"

Henry's hand seemed to move of it's own accord, and he gave his son a solid backhand across the face, sending him falling backward. He hit his head on a small table, and bounced back against the wall.

Henry's eyes grew wide as he realised what he'd just done.

"Shawn..."

The boy's head was bleeding. Shawn's hand went to the wound and he examined the blood on it as though it were something amazing.

"Shawn, you need to go to the hospital." Henry said. His voice weak, and his hands were shaking. All he'd wanted was to protect his son, and he'd ended up hurting him.

The boy got up, painfully slow, and made his way past his father, up the stairs to his room. He didn't slam the door. Henry wanted to follow, make sure he was okay, but he wasn't sure he'd be welcome. He looked at the bottle in his hand and was disgusted with himself. He threw it against the wall and it shattered.

He stood on the bottom step, staring up. He wanted to go to his son, to drag the boy to a doctors, but he was scared. If he went up now... he might lose his son forever. He sat down, and tried to think it through, but the scotch dulled his thoughts. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, trying to decide what to do, but he had no idea how to help his son.

He was drunk, and soon, he was asleep and snoring.

* * *

When he came too, he couldn't figure out why he was on the stairs. There was a foul taste in his mouth, and his head was pounding. Slowly, memories of the previous night returned.

"Shawn!" He was on his feet and running up the stairs. "Shawn, buddy? You okay?" He barged into his son's room, and threw up on the carpet. Part of it was the hangover, but it was also the sight of the t shirt discarded on the carpet, stained dark with blood. He'd done that. He'd made his boy bleed.

The window was open.

"Damn it, Shawn." He'd snuck out. Not that Henry could blame him. Of course Shawn would want to get away from his father who hit him. Henry put a hand to his throbbing head, and made his way back downstairs.

Shit. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 1 pm! He'd never slept that late... not since he was a kid. His son was missing and he'd been dreaming the day away. He looked over at the calendar that had all his shifts written on it in true anal retentive fashion. That's right. He had today off. He'd been planning on taking Shawn to the amusement park. Yeah, like that was going to happen now.

Wait a minute... shit. Had the kid taken his meds with him? He was past due a dose. He ran back up the stairs and this time had the presence of mind to note that Shawn's backpack was missing, and the two pill bottles weren't in their usual spot on the nightstand. The kid had definitely ran away. Probably as soon as he'd hit him. Henry cleaned up his vomit and tried to think.

He needed to find his son. God, what if Shawn had been kidnapped? He'd been walking around in the middle of the night, just asking for trouble. Henry knew, as a cop, that the first twenty four hours were critical, and he'd been sleeping for 16 of them! 16 God-damned hours! How had he slept that long? He headed for the phone, and sighed, as he stumbled upon the remains of a scotch bottle.

Oh, yeah, that's how.

He picked up the phone and hesitated. What if he was over-reacting? What if Shawn had just gone over to Gus's? It wouldn't be the first time. He'd check there first.

He was half way to the door when he realised he was still wearing yesterday's clothes which stank of alcohol and vomit. He went upstairs had a shower and changed, all the time thinking only of Shawn (who was at that very moment having a soap fight with a girl called Josephine).

He hesitated as he reached the door. Should he clean up the broken glass? If Shawn came home... would he freak out at seeing the smashed bottle? He might cut himself on it. He wanted this house to be a safe place for his son. If he came home to a pool of glass laden alcohol...

Shawn would probably be fine. He'd be at Gus's and Henry was worrying about nothing. He'd clean up the glass, so it would be safe for Shawn to come back.

This wasn't the first time Shawn had vanished. Maybe that's why Henry's panic was a distant, abstract thing. He was terrified for his son, but not as scared as he was the first time Shawn had disappeared. He was six years old, and he'd been home alone with Maddie. Henry had been working.

"I just took my eyes off him for a second!" she had cried.

They'd found Shawn just a few hours later. He was at the circus by the beach, the one they'd visited the day before. When Henry had yelled at him Shawn just looked at him for a long minute and then explained calmly that he'd decided he wanted to be a clown, or maybe an acrobat.

Shawn was fine that time. He'd be fine.

* * *

It was nearly an hour later when Henry showed up at the Guster's. He knocked. And there was no answer. He knocked again, harder, and still, no one answered the door. The caged ball of panic in his stomach began to growl and thrash, hoping for escape. He pounded against the door, not caring how desperate he looked.

"Shawn! Shawn, if you're in there, you open this door right now!"

For a second, he was sure he heard Shawn's sarcastic voice replying:  _Why? So you can hit me again?_

He pounded harder.

"Shawn!"

"Hey!" A voice came from behind him. "They ain't in. They left in the middle of the night!"

Of course. If Shawn showed up at the Guster's, bleeding from the head, they'd have rushed him off to the hospital. Mr and Mrs Guster might not like Shawn all that much, but they wouldn't let a child suffer.

"Thanks!" He called distractedly to the guy who'd told him they'd gone, and he dashed back to his truck.

There were two hospitals with driving distance. Which would the Gusters have gone to?

He headed to Sacred Heart first.

"My son, Shawn Spencer, has he been admitted?" Henry asked the nurse behind the reception desk.

"Just a minute, sir." She began tapping at keys on the computer.

"I don't have a minute. Is my son here?"

"There's no one by that name on the records. I'm sorry."

Henry frowned. He headed over to St Mary's which was further away, but still close enough, and went through the same routine. Shawn wasn't on the records there either. Henry punched the desk in exasperation.

"Mr Spencer?" Came from behind him. Henry turned to find Gus standing there.

"Gus. Thank God. Is Shawn here?"

"What? No. He was at mine for a little while last night, but he went home about ten o'clock. My Aunt's had a stroke, and we had to come here."

"So you haven't seen Shawn since ten last night?"

"No. What's wrong? Didn't he make it home? Has something happened?"

"He did come home..." Henry said reluctantly. "But we had a fight. He snuck out sometime last night, and he hasn't come home. I thought he was at your house... but there was no one there."

"What? Oh my God. But... Where would he go? I wasn't there, he knew I wasn't there. Where would he go?"

"I don't know." Henry scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"Burton! There you are. You're mother is asking after you." Mr Guster said, coming over. "Henry, is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine." Henry looked at Gus standing there with his father, and suddenly he couldn't be there anymore, and turned and stormed out of the hospital.

* * *

He went home, but Shawn hadn't magically reappeared. He wasn't there, and it was getting dark. His boy was out there, alone. Was he afraid? Nah, not Shawn. He was probably having the time of his life... but... Shawn always had been good at getting into trouble. What if he was hurt? Or should that be hurt worse? Henry packed a first aid kit, and a picnic cooler. He put them in the truck and called his Chief.

"Sir, Shawn's missing. He snuck out of the house, and I thought he was at Gus's but he wasn't and now I can't find him. He's probably just off sulking, but I'd appreciate it if you asked the uniforms to keep an eye out for him. No, sir. I'm going to search for my son." He hung up. He should have called them in the first place.

Henry spent the night driving around the city, looking everywhere that he could think of. He talked to some of his snitches, checked shelters, and any places he could think of where homeless kids congregated. But Shawn was at none of them. Every time he reached a dead end, he headed back to the house, checking if Shawn had returned. But he hadn't. The thought of his son spending a night on the streets...

Morning broke and Henry pulled over to the kerb. He'd had no luck whatsoever. Shawn could be anywhere! He could have been kidnapped, he could have been killed! A good looking boy like Shawn, vulnerable and injured... Henry knew the sorts of things that could happen to a young boy, alone on the streets. And with no one to see him, Henry leaned his head against the steering wheel and cried.

He was simply at the end of his tether.

It took him several minutes to regain control of himself. God, what was he going to do? Shawn could be dead in a ditch somewhere? And what would he tell Maddie? He sighed. He had better call his wife. He turned the car around and slowly drove home, barely paying attention to the road. He was done. His son... his little boy... Oh, God Shawn.

He got home and sat, staring at the phone. It felt like just a couple of moments, but when he looked up at the clock, he realised several hours had passed. He really needed to call Maddie. She was Shawn's mother. She had a right to know what's happening with their son. He reached for the phone, and it began to ring. He stared, incredulous, and then picked it up.

"Hello? Hendricks. You've what? Is he...? So, he's alright? Hospital? What...St Mary's, okay I can meet you there. He's going to be okay, right?" Henry pleaded for reassurance. "I'll... I'll be right there."

Henry was never all that religious, but at that moment he praised the Lord, and thanked him for his son. Henry only prayed nine times in his life, and eight of those were because of Shawn. But that's another story.

* * *

Henry broke all the speed limits on the way to the hospital. He ran in, and the nurse on duty was the same as the one from the day before.

"My son, Shawn Spencer." The nurse looked at him like he was crazy, but she checked the records.

"Oh." She said, obviously surprised. "Yes, he was just admitted." She directed him to Shawn's room.

He ran to his son's side. Shawn's face had swollen and changed to a nasty purple colour. The gash in the back of his head, from hitting the table, had ten stitches closing it. There was an IV attached to his left arm, pumping much needed blood back into the boy.

"Shawn. Oh thank God. You're alright. I am so sorry. I... I'm going to turn myself in. I can't believe I hit you. I never meant to hurt you." Henry babbled.

"What? Dad..." Shawn had no idea what to say to that.

"I didn't mean to hit you. I was drunk, I know it's not an excuse, but I would never have hit you in my right mind."

"Dad!" Shawn half shouted. "I know that. It... it wasn't your fault. And you can't turn yourself in."

"I have to. If I ever did something to hurt you again... or your mother..."

"You wouldn't. At least, as long as you don't drink so much." Shawn said with absolute confidence. "You can't turn yourself in."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd be doing more harm than good! You turn yourself in, what would happen? Scenario 1, they let you off because you're a cop. You resent the fact that you get off, because you trust in the system, and knowing you, quit your job." Henry half nodded, admitting it as a likely turn of events. "You're unemployed, causing more tension with Mom, you start drinking more, and end up becoming more violent. Either that, or you and Mom get a divorce over this, which will be all my fault." Henry opened his mouth to respond, but Shawn held up a finger and he closed his mouth. "Option 2, you get arrested and go to jail. They either leave me with Mom, who forgets me in Texas again, or leaves me on my own while she's off on one of her business trips. Or, they declare Mom an unfit guardian and with you in jail, I get put in foster care. I could get a good home, but we both know that the system isn't perfect, that there are foster parents who only get into it to give them power over kids who they then abuse. And the way my luck's going at the minute, I'd end up in one of those." Again Henry opened his mouth, but Shawn forestalled him. "If you turn yourself in, my life only gets worse. Instead, change. That's all I want. Promise me you won't do it again. Oh, and promise you won't tell Mom you hit me."

"That would be enough for you?" Henry asked, touched by his son's faith in him.

"Dad, come on! You always keep your promises!"

And that was that.

* * *

Well, there were some other loose ends to tie up, but that's the end of the main story. Henry found Gus and his family on another ward and let them know Shawn was okay. The doctors took Shawn off the blood thinners, and Shawn's inherent dislike of hospitals increased after being forced to spend the night in one, yet again.

Henry called Maddie, finally, to let her know their son was in hospital. She still had days left at the conference and she had made a commitment.

"Really Henry, I thought you'd understand that. And it's not like he's dying. Just a little bump on the head."

She brought Shawn lots of presents back and Henry pretended he hadn't called her. It made Shawn feel better.

Shawn worked on and off in Molly's diner over the next few years. It was where he ran to when things got bad. But Henry didn't mind. Molly was good people, and so was Jo. Besides, Shawn wasn't running  _away,_  he was running  _to_  somewhere, and that made all the difference in the world.

 


End file.
